Ever have a dream that you had a mouth full of numbers, making it real hard to pickup your girlfriend (who, for the sake of the dream, doesn’t know who you are).
Eventually I got to spit them all out, and there were a lot of them, they were in places I didn’t know my mouth had. Coming out in goopey clumps reminiscent of a particularly delicious desert I had at Java Room in Parnell a few years ago (good work ruining that relationship, Dylan, btw).
Also went eel shooting, with jetskis and dinghys. And some dead kid bobbing in the shallows.
The numbers are still the bit that really stuck in my head though.